its no wonder i can't sleep
my toes are curled against my feet
ten tiny mice in their infant stages
crowded together for warmth
I watch them from this fuzzy height
pretending they belong to me
and alternatively
that they do not
that they are some strange thing
washed up against this slab of a shore
by some tricksome winsome wind
and all I have to do with it is this casual encounter
in which i stare at the foreign creature
curled up in the cold and suppose
what if I and this bizarre creature were connected
As I lean haphazardly against this concrete wall
creating and severing these foreign feet
I wonder vaguely about the strange angelthingyou
and against this cold concrete
with all of this caffeine
I find that though I can't sleep I can still dream
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some tricksome winsome wind
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